A Hundred Years Too Long
by Greenzaku
Summary: Urahara x Unohana. Kisuke Urahara finally returns to Soul Society and the woman that awaits him.


**A/N: **This fic was done on request by Gryphalcon. I've found it a challenge as it's a somewhat more mature romance than most fics on the site. The shamisen is a banjo-like Japanese musical instrument.

**Pairings:** Urahara/Unohana. Writing unusual pairings is fast becoming my specialty it seems.

**Warnings:** None.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Bleach, except for the bottle of somewhat caustic fluid in my house toilet.

* * *

Kotetsu Isane carried the tray with two teacups to the front porch where Retsu Unohana sat each day in her hour of meditation. Outside, crickets droned in the shimmering, summer air. In a daily schedule that was often hectic and disrupted by medical emergencies, the captain chose to meditate daily in the hour after noon; when patients dozed peacefully after lunch and healthy shinigami were lethargic and less inclined to get into fights and accidents. It was a ritual at least a hundred years old, Isane reflected. First she would sip tea with Unohana-taichou. Then the captain would sit serenely in quiet contemplation while she returned to her duties. Every day, it was always the same. For an hour, Retsu Unohana was not to be disturbed for _any reason_; and the 4th division was temporarily under Isane's command.

She drew aside the dividing screen and stopped dead for a few moments. Unohana wasn't there. Force of habit still made the lieutenant walk to where Unohana always sat and set the tray gently down. Her captain had only ever missed her daily meditation once in the last century; the day when Sosuke Aizen left Soul Society and she had to treat the numerous casualties left behind. As she stood up and pondered the whereabouts of her captain, Isane heard distant music playing. Retsu Unohana was playing the shamisen.

The lieutenant knew that the day had come. She picked up the tray again and walked to the room that was the source of the music. Oblivious to her presence, Unohana kept playing. Slender fingers glided over and plucked the three-stringed instrument with fluid grace. The bachi, the traditional plectrum, caressed the silken strings as it played an ancient tune that conjured in Isane's mind images of mist-shrouded mountains and rippling streams. The captain sat cross-legged on a mat of rice stalks, as serene as the tune she played. Isane wondered how old the shamisen was – it was bound with paper in the manner of the most ancient examples of its type instead of animal skin or synthetic sheeting. The notes were mellowed with age like the finest vintage sake, and soon both Isane and her captain were entranced listeners interwoven into the tapestry of sound that drifted through the halls of the division headquarters and lingered in the still air.

After a few minutes, Unohana finished her tune and gestured to Isane to sit with her. She asked the lieutenant to drink first and place a lid on the remaining cup before returning to her other duties; so that the tea would be kept warm for later. Isane obeyed without question. Just as she rose to leave, Unohana paused and made a final request.

"Kotetsu-san, please fetch another cup of tea with a lid. Thank you."

She resumed her playing as the lieutenant, flushed with barely-contained excitement, went to prepare a third cup. Unohana was unendingly patient, and had waited a hundred years for this day.

Now even an hour was too long to wait.

* * *

He'd finally gotten his official pardon from General Yamamoto the previous day; for his contributions in the war against Aizen. He was given the pick of whichever captain-less division he desired, for he was a captain and always would be. The man only smiled mysteriously and asked for day to make his decision.

Within twenty-four hours, the 12th division lost its captain too…and no one mourned him. Kisuke Urahara, founder of Sereitei's Bureau of Science and Technology, had returned to his post. On checking the time, he realised that he had exactly one hour to find his way from the Twelfth to the Fourth. Urahara paused only long enough to don the captain's cloak and tenderly place his hat on a confused Nemu's head before scampering off.

Wooden clogs rapped once again across the halls of the 12th division as Urahara ran, ignoring his zanpakutou's protests as he sometimes paused to gently prod the bottoms of any shinigami that got in his way with his cane. He stepped out into the sunlight and stood blinking in its brightness, his eyes unshaded and his hair ruffled by the wind for the first time in a century. Grinning, he resumed his flight past the ancient alleyways and over the old cobblestones, reliving the memories they held for him. A hundred years of Mayuri's command would never erase the fact that the 12th division had once been very, very closely allied to the 4th. The latter used to supply willing experimental subjects to the former in return for sophisticated technology and with the condition that none were harmed or suffered major discomfort. It was an excellent arrangement, Urahara reflected; and one that needed to be reinstated. Of course, it wasn't flawless and Nanao still hadn't completely forgiven him for the old incident with the flying purple anteaters; but it wasn't intentional. Really.

Still, anything was better than what Mayuri was doing. In Urahara's mind, science was married to humane service, the same way he was bound to _her_.

He passed Tessai outside the division's main gate. The man was once his lieutenant but would not return to the Gotei 13. He'd grown to love his job in the shop and Kisuke Urahara could not imagine a better successor. Wordlessly he turned to follow Urahara, clutching a large cardboard carton in his arms. The contents of said box rattled and slid across each other as the big man galloped to keep pace, moving with an eerie silence despite his bulk.

* * *

Once she'd served Unohana, Isane bolted into her room and locked the door behind her. Then she leapt across the room to draw the curtains. The most sedate lieutenant in the Gotei 13 frantically tore off her clothes, tossed them onto the bed and yanked open her closet.

What could she wear…what could she wear? She was fully aware that she'd never been creative when it came to dressing up. Then, she smiled. She shuddered with excitement as she drew forth the perfect garment from the depths of the cabinet and yanked it on before dashing out of the door. He could be arriving anytime now…

For this special day, she had as much leave as her captain. Long, sinewy legs took her down the corridor and through the main reception of the 4th division, leaving speechless stares in her wake. One of them belonged to 3rd Seat Yasochika Iemura.

"Yasochika-san! You have command of the division until one o'clock!"

By the time the stunned man replaced his glasses, she was gone.

* * *

If Unohana was excited, she hid it well. Despite her focus on the shamisen, she could hear the distant slam of Isane's door and the lieutenant's running footfalls. The young were so full of energy, she reflected. Such behaviour was unbecoming in a matriarch such as herself; part of the reason why she chose to meditate at that time each day. If she fretted as Isane did immediately after Urahara's exile, she would have eventually lost the stamina to keep his memory over untold years, and possibly her fidelity with it. Better to sit in disciplined silence and remember him fondly for a few allocated moments each day than to flush with uncontrolled excitement at the slightest reminder of his existence and exhaust herself with worry and longing.

Retsu Unohana knew for certain that he would return, and remembered his promise long after Isane had forgotten. She remained peaceful and composed as she continued to pluck at the shamisen. Now she played a gentle melody of welcome, one fit for greeting a lost love on his return. Her outward calm was betrayed only by one thing. As Urahara's reiatsu approached the headquarters' main gate, a keen listener may have discerned just the slightest increase in the tempo of her song. Though she would never admit it, Unohana was too excited to care.

Breathlessly, Tessai and Urahara halted at the front entrance. Peering within, they could see Isane was already in position and Tessai reached into the box, his huge hand closing around several pieces of wrapped candy. Urahara checked his watch again and leaned back on the gate. He had exactly ten seconds to spare, which he used to remind Tessai of the promise he made a hundred years ago.

"_I __**will**__ return. The sun will be shining brightly high in the sky, and there will be music, and singing, and dancing. And everyone will have sweets…"_ Urahara checked again. Four more seconds. "…and she agreed…_NOW!!!_"

Tessai bellowed like an ox and charged headlong into the 4th Division, tossing candy and scattering medics and their patients. Isane adjusted the straps of her bikini and began dancing a jerky rumba that was completely at odds with the gentle melody coming from Unohana's room. Urahara sauntered into the headquarters and made his way briskly to the source of the music. He was singing 'Unchained Melody' at the top of his lungs and barely in tune while bewildered shinigami scrambled out of his path. A few had their hands clapped over their ears. Things were going exactly as planned for the scientist. Chaos had officially returned to the Fourth.

* * *

It wasn't until he'd entered the room that Unohana stopped playing and rose to greet him with a bow, the tears brimming in her eyes. He responded in kind before reaching into his kimono and drawing out a bar of chocolate as white as her obi and as sweet as the years they had spent together in their youth. Then they sat together as Unohana unwrapped the chocolate and took a nibble.

Urahara stared dreamily into space. Then Unohana turned to face him.

He nearly fell backwards in shock when she _stuck out her tongue_ at him, before he recovered and laughed. For a while, they were Academy students again, sharing candy under the trees outside the training compound. Her eyes sparkled with renewed mischief as she gently reprimanded him.

"My silly Hat-and-Clogs…you have broken your promise. You said that everyone would have sweets. It seems you've forgotten to save some for yourself."

He blushed in response. There were no excuses, no witty half-truths he could tell someone like Unohana. Sighing, she broke the bar in half and gave a piece to him.

"That is what happens when you make grand promises. I only promised to have this ready for you when you returned." She gestured at the cups and Urahara lifted the lid off the nearest one, smiling sheepishly. They drank together in companionable silence, broken only by occasional mouthfuls of chocolate.

Unohana may have waited a hundred years too long, but at least her husband was back in time for tea.

* * *

_"The things that will destroy us are:  
politics without principle;  
pleasure without conscience;  
wealth without work;  
knowledge without character;  
business without morality;  
__**science without humanity;**__  
and worship without sacrifice."_

_-Mahatma Gandhi_


End file.
